Blackend Scales and Wintered Fur
by Joelcoxriley
Summary: Cynder is lost and confused, her choker and bracers symbols of her dark servitude. That is, until an odd white wolf breaks the shackles of her old life once and for all, and sets her free. He leaves as soon as he arrives, and a storm is kicked up inside Cynder's breast. He bares the scars of torture that he cannot escape. She bares the past she cannot stand. *one shot series*
1. Chapter 1

**Hello! This is a series of one shots that will mainly be between by OC and Cynder. Of varying themes and what not. I apologize for not updating anything, but I am very busy, and found that short, random one shots work very well for me at this moment. As seen by Stories in the Ink. Either way, I doubt this will get much attention, since this fandom is very against Spyro/OC or Cynder/OC...but I don't care. Think of something creative and not rum-dumb-dull and boring! Yay fucked up pairings! Either way, have fun. Or not. That's up to you. **

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It had been several months since the defeat of Malefor, and Cynder had fallen within deep contemplation. The black dragoness looked upon the thriving valley before her, the rays of the rising sun gleaming upon her metal braces and choker as the wind whispered softly, stirring the valley's inhabitants to greet a newly birthed dawn.

The former Terror had been at a loss ever since the fall of her master. All her life she had only known orders, known obedience. Ever since Spyro, her world had shattered. It had been both relieving, yet stressing. She hated Spyro, yet she loved him. What he had done was kind. He had freed her from her shackles, from her twisted servitude. What he had done was cruel. He had stolen her away from the only world she had known. He had forced into an even harsher world. Before, Cynder was in a world where she belonged. Now, Cynder was in a world that simply did not want her. And it was all Spyro's fault.

Yes, Cynder was treated as an equal among Spyro and the Guardians, but that was it. The rest of the draconic population simply did not trust her. At times, she could not tell which life was worse.

Worse yet, Cynder could not tell where the servant ended, and she, herself, began. How much of her wanted to serve once more? How much of her wanted to find herself, her true self, not the servant?

Cynder wasn't sure.

Sighing, the former Terror had turned around, freezing in her steps as she had seen a massive wolf staring upon her with fur of winter's first snow, eyes clouded and irises crimson. A horrific scar caused by three talons had run from the base of its ear, over the eye and stopping under the chin, deep and lasting. Yet the thing that disturbed her most was the extra set of talons the canine had upon the inner forearms, flexing and opposable.

Her muscles tensed. Something was wrong. Her talons dug into the ground, preparing for a fight. Before Cynder registered what had happened, the beast had found its jaws around her throat, movements almost supernatural as she heard the snapping of metal and the jolt of pain.

Twisting and twirling the pair had rolled around the soft grass, hisses and snarls cutting through the air, dirt uprooting and fur flying.

As swiftly as the grappling began, it was over, the wolf drawing back and bounding away a safer distance.

Cynder swiftly rose to her paws, snarling and exposing her fangs, venom filling her open maw. It was then she noticed something, a weightlessness, a nakedness that she did not realize before. Looking upon the ground, the former Terror had seen the shards of her choker upon the ground, glimmering in the grasses. Even her bracers were gone, mauled off, though her scales were not damaged.

Her emerald eyes had widened in shock and disbelief. The comfort and symbol of her slavery-crushed in the jaws of a beast. Slowly Cynder's eyes had fallen towards the creature, whose gaze had remained unfocused, looking towards her, or passed her. She could not tell.

"Now...you are free. No longer bound. I never forgot you, though it appears you have forgotten me, Cynder." The massive wolf spoke, though Cynder doubted it was truly a wolf. The voice was deep, yet soft, masculine.

The black dragoness cocked her head, "You...know me? Who are you?"

"It does not matter. You do not remember me. But I do not blame you." The beast spoke, slowly moving off into the forest, away from the scorching sun.

Cynder frowned before looking upon the shards of her past, and felt a lightness within her chest.

The shackles of a servant she wore no more.

Now, Cynder was free.

Finally free.

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**Expect this to be updated semi frequently. Still not as much as Stories in the Ink, but still. Oh, and before I forget, the prequel to this was...The Terror and The Beast, if I remember. Either way, thank you for reading and if you have any hate rants over the pairing, send them my way.  
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**Cheers.**


	2. Chapter 2

Amid all the screams of those she tortured and killed and the constant laughing of the apes, all she wanted was silence. For him, the silence drove him to the brink of insanity, and all he craved was the beating of her heart to drown out the endless oblivion.

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With his failed sight, he never saw the strike coming. Chained, he could not even dodge as the ivory talons took blood and flesh, deep crimson running in thick streaks down wintered fur.

He could not even afford to cry as the tainted blood of apes that coated his throat prevented him from breathing. The blood stained his jowls and chest, thickly pooling around his paws and drying, causing sore and pained toes.

The beast had blisters filled with infected puss underneath faded fur from wounds, often being jabbed in his already damaged eyes or flanks for the apes' entertainment. If they wanted to be exceptionally cruel, the apes would allow the sun to shine upon the captive beast, causing his fur to fall out in patches and his flesh to develop hives in fervor of his reaction. The harsh rays would sear his flesh and fur, even turn his bones black. But the apes would never allow him to burn to that extent. They were too cruel.

The beast felt his head lurch from the blow, biting his own tongue with his breaking teeth. Biting. He was always biting something. At first, it was his restraints-the beast easily breaking the thick and heavy chains of his prison. Now it was magic, and his sheer strength and resilience could not break his bonds. If the beast wasn't biting metal, he was being milked of his saliva by strange tubes that would collect the fluid. And when he wasn't being milked, he was being stabbed by all kinds of crude, makeshift weapons. It was an attempt to rile the beast up-and it worked. If he wasn't biting and snapping the weapons in half and taking the arm of the ape with it, he was tearing an ape apart. They only wanted a simple bite, but the beast was too strong, and gained an unparalleled zeal when fueled by the scent of blood. Even if the apes did survive the loss of blood, the bacteria in the beast's bite would kill them in hours.

But the fervor and zeal acquired from the frenzy had faded when the cries faltered, the scent of hot blood faded and the heartbeats ceased. All but one. Then came pain.

"Do not look at me like that!" Cynder hissed, ivory talons scrapping the beast's fur as a tooth was sent flying and new blood splattered the floor.

The black dragoness chuckled, rising her talons coated in red as her tongue softly glided against them.

The beast slowly rose to look upon the dragoness, left eye bloody and swollen with a deep scrape down his face, blood dripping on the ground near a missing canine.

"Are you deaf as well as stupid? Humph. I should expect no less from an animal. Even the apes are more trainable than you...but at least you have your purpose." Cynder looked upon the beast, red eyes looking towards her, or even passed her. She couldn't tell with those damn eyes. From what she could tell the beast was completely blind, but it's other senses were extraordinary. From the apes lying on the floor, torn apart, it was impressive what this beast could do even while bound. Not even the thickest chains could keep it caged for long.

"A pity that I can't end you here and now. But my master has plans for you. I'll enjoy watching you suffer, beast." Cynder drawled slowly, voice smooth and low as she laughed darkly, the beast still staring upon her, or at least trying to.

"Your heart does not...speak that." The beast spoke, voice course and dry yet deep and smooth. Cynder snapped her head, slightly taken aback, baring her teeth, "I did not order you to speak."

"And your master...does not ha...have plans for...m..me. You lie...why?" The beast asked, Cynder's eyes widening ever so slightly upon hearing it speak the truth.

"Listen and answer to me, dog! How do you know?" Cynder asked, eyes narrowing darkly as her talons flexed, ready to strike.

"The heart...does not lie." He replied, Cynder scoffing in reply.

"If you aren't willing to comply, why don't I rip out both your damn eyes?" Cynder asked casually, flexing her talons and examining them. The creature just stared at her. Or seemed to.

"Why not just kill me? You said you wanted to...but you lied."

"Why? Because it would be oh, so much more fun to torture you." Cynder replied, scraping his chin slightly with a talon.

"You lie. Your master is not here...other wise you said you...wa...wanted to kill me. Why...torture me when...you can do no greater harm than the...apes? Why not kill m..me?" The beast asked, left eye now swollen shut, blood and clear puss running down his face.

Cynder growled, not even having an answer as she slashed his face once more, the beast yelping at the sting of pain, "Silence!"

The beast leaned as far as his restraints would allow, looking at the ground for several seconds before slowly turning his gaze to the dragoness.

"You s...say words...lies...but your h...heart...speaks with truth."

"How do you know I lie?" Cynder asked, voice dark with withheld frustration.

"I hear your heart...it beats...good. Good...you have a good heart. Not like the others, the apes."

At this, Cynder snorted, "What a fool you are."

"Then kill me...if I am wrong. Hearts do not lie."

Cynder growled, the beast looking upon her, single eye not even focusing on her, like a mindless lamb ready for slaughter. Cynder readied her talons, but paused, hissing in frustration as she turned around, smacking him with her tail, "Seeing you suffer would be even more satisfying."

The beast yelped upon being hit, her scent disappearing and heartbeat fading, the room falling into silence once more.

After that, the apes never came. There was no stabbing at his eyes and flanks, no shoving odd tubes in his mouth until it became hard to breathe, no harsh sunlight. At first, it was peaceful. But then came silence.

Until the silence was broken by the sound of clawed paws hitting the cold cobble stone floor, the beast's ears twitching as his heart started to increase, eventually matching the pattern of his visitor. He could smell her scent before she even fully arrived. It was alluring, intoxicating.

When Cynder arrived, she stared at the beast for a long time, no words being spoken. He was just listening to her heartbeat. The only thing that broke the silence.

"Do not look at me like that." Cynder growled darkly, the beast's red eyes looking at her, or passed her, "You are wrong. Hearts do lie." Cynder replied, the black dragoness swiftly turning to walk away, her scent and heartbeat fading as silence once again reigned.

The silence reigned until it became almost deafening. To him, it was much worse than the light of the sun. Yet once again the silence was broken by the familiar heartbeat. At first, the beast had thought his ears were playing tricks on him like they did so many times, yet now they were not, for the steady rhythm of the Terror's heart spurred his with excitement as it grew louder.

Cynder remained silent for several minutes before sighing, "What is your name, dog?"

The beast fell silent, unsure if he even had a name. What was his life like before this? He could not imagine, or even remember. All he remembered was his mother, and she would call him something...what was it? Mica...Nica...Nicika? Nikita! Yes, that was what his ape mother called him!

"N...N...Ni...kita. Nik...ita. Nikita." The varg forced out, voice pained from not speaking. Cynder grunted slightly at the name, shaking her head.

"I ordered you not to look at me like that. I hate the way you look at me, do...Nikita." Cynder corrected herself, yet approached the bound wolf, admiring the handiwork on his face. He scarred quite well, especially on his left eye, the horrendous marks running from his ear, eye and passed his mouth to his jaw.

Nikita said nothing, simply enjoying her scent, the beating of her heart and her voice. With a deep sigh, Cynder laid down, several feet away. The Terror remained silent. The silence was such a nice change from the endless chatter of the apes. It felt good not to be gazed upon by another that either looked upon her with hatred or terror. He could not judge her nor her actions, for he could not see. Nikita, however, could get comforted by her presence, the wolf simply content by just listening to her heartbeat.

After several minutes, Cynder had risen and slowly left, she losing her silence and he losing his sound. Several times Cynder had returned, each time she staying a little longer and getting ever closer, he beginning to hear her heart with more clarity. Together they just rested, one in silence, another in sound. An unspoken mutual agreement.

The pair stayed that way, paws barely touching as Cynder admired the odd set of claws on the inside of Nikita's front legs; long, sharp, opposable...they would make excellent weapons for killing. Looking at his fur, she noticed it was dirty and stained from blood and puss, the wintered fur even falling out in some areas. But the features that bothered her most was the red eyes that always seemed to stare at her, yet passed her. While blind, nothing seemed to hide from them. Not even when Nikita blinked. Despite him being a beast, she felt equal with him.

Nikita stayed completely still, his paws twitching slightly as their claws touched. It was so odd to feel something that was not cold and hard or pointed and sharp. Comforted by her beating heart and scent, nothing else seemed to matter. All his life he was being judged for what he was, for his looks. With Cynder he knew she would not judge him despite how cruelly she had treated him. He could not see the tainted green in her eyes, nor the red on her chest or brilliant ivory on her horns-like a crown. But he was happy, for he could hear her heart, and could feel something gentle and warm press against his cold snout caked with blood. He did not know what it was, but it smelled like Cynder, and her heartbeat quickened. It was Cynder.

Cynder gently nuzzled the varg before her, Nikita confused and unsure as he slowly started to mimic the movement. Slowly, Cynder pulled away, the pair remaining in silence once more. For Nikita, it didn't matter how long she stayed. It did not matter how many horrible things she did. No matter what she did to him or others, her heart never lied, and she had become his first friend.

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**Hello, world! I have been largely absent from this fandom, but oh well.**

**Activity list: Dishonored, finished! Yay. Sequel? Yes, eventually.**

**Current/active projects: Stories in the Ink/Intimacy. Dragon Age. Almost finished. Sequel? Possibly.**

**Stories I plan on updating soon: No Remorse Holds No Recourse. Let us see what chaos Joel will cause in the Dragon Realms, yes? It's not everyday a man dead once living twice scars a whole classroom of dragon-cheetah-mole children and accuses Flame of looking like a tampon.**

**That's the plan. Thank you for reading.**


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